The sisters agree to be roommates when Bill files for divorce. Samantha’s carelessness and a smart remark earn her a couple of swats on her size 6 panties. Time for a Bare Bottom Barbecue! We’re havin’ biscuits and red-eye gravy.

Samantha waved her 3-inch spectator pumps in the air as her undies were being peeled back. “No! Don’t!” The crumpled pin-striped slacks made a round trip over her swinging calves and came to rest in a heap at the crook of the knees.

Such a shame to get such nice fabric all wrinkled, don’t you think?

And there’s still some purple left over from that session with the hairbrush. See? Right there – just above that tan line. Ouch!

Oh well. Some people have a little trouble adapting to change.

“Ginger! Don’t! I’m sorry!”

Save your breath.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SPANK! WHACK! SMACK!

There’s really nothing to discuss when an errant miss’s trip-to-the-couch speech includes “Wait…I shouldn’t have said that”. She already knows what this is all about.

That bottom’s jiggling under each spank, John. Those are some hard swats.

She deserves it, Al. Look! She’s up on her elbows, pressing against Ginger’s hold. That shows she’s starting to feel it.

Right. You can tell there’s some growing distress when the legs go rigid. See? She held that left calf in position at about 20 or 30 degrees through half a dozen smacks.

Yeah, and here comes the first apology. Hear that long descending O-W-W-W-w-w-w-w? That means she knows she’s gonna have to do better. That first apology never works, even if it’s sincere.

“If I ask you … to turn the TV down … when I’m trying to sleep … what will you do?”

“Ow! Turn it down! … I’ll turn it right down … Ow … Ginger …”

“Right away?”

“Yes. Right away.”

“With no backtalk.”

“Ow … Yes … No backtalk.”

“No GET A LIFE?” SPANK! SMACK!

“Right … Ow … Stop … Ow …”

“I said you’d been drinking … and you told me … to get a life! … Didn’t you?”

“Yes. I’m sorry … Please … OW-W-w-w-w!”

“You have … quite … a smart mouth. … Don’t you? … Hmm?”

Ginger let go, and Samantha collapsed, demolished, onto the carpet.

What a mess! The bed-head hair, the wrinkled blouse, the torn lace edge of the panties, the jumbled slacks. One black pump hanging from one big toe. Bloodshot eyes, tear-stained cheeks, snotty nose, trembling lips. She rubbed her beestung butt with both hands, moaning and sobbing in a fetal position.

Ginger went to the kitchen and soaped up a clean sponge with a sudsy squirt of Ivory liquid. She returned with a handkerchief.

“Here. Blow your nose. Then we’ll clean up that smart mouth.”

Ginger shoved the soft sponge all the way in. Samantha mmphed and gagged and coughed and mmphed.

“Keep that in while I write up your final exam.”

“Mmph. Cough! Mmph!

“And don’t even think about spitting it out.” WHACK!

Ginger went to the kitchen and took out a yellow pad. She wrote down the outline for her sister’s essay test.

“I got a spanking because I

__________________________________________________

__________________________________________________

__________________________________________________

__________________________________________________

__________________________________________________”

She turned the page.

“List ten examples of other behavior that is also unacceptable here.”

She numbered 1 through 10 and turned the page.

“Draw a picture of what your bottom will look like if you misbehave again.”

Next page.

On the eighth page, she wrote “What will happen immediately if you are ever careless or thoughtless or smart-mouthed again? (TWENTY WORD MINIMUM) Repeat your answer over and over until you are given permission to stop.”

She removed the sponge from Samantha’s mouth. “Get up.” Samantha wiped soap from her lips and spit out what she could.

Ginger tugged Samantha by the arm to the glass-topped breakfast table and plopped her bare-assed onto the round vinyl cushion of the metal-backed chair.

“Here. Write out your answers. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

As she turned into the dining room, Ginger whipped the belt out from her jeans, doubled it up, and cracked it against the door jamb. WHAP!

While Samantha was sobbing in terror and writing “If I ever ever ever act carelessly or show disrespect to Ginger again I will get another hard spanking on my bare bottom” forty – fifty – sixty times, Molly was hitting the Send button on her twentieth happy e-mail to Joshua.

“See you in half an hour.

Love,Moll”

Spell-check. Wait – not “Love”. Click!

I mean, he was wonderful!

He writes me all the time, he’s funny, he wants to play spanking games like he’s the professor or I’m his wife and I forgot to pick up the kids, but he’s not weird, and he seems cool!

“If I ever ever ever act carelessly or show disrespect to Ginger again I will get another hard spanking on my bare bottom.”

And I finally give him my cell number and he calls, but he’s normal, and he doesn’t call after 11, and he doesn’t bug me at work…

“If I ever ever ever act carelessly or show disrespect to Ginger again I will get another hard spanking on my bare bottom.”

And so … he wants to get together! Like dinner! Like now! Like get dressed! God, if that picture he sent from his brother’s cookout is what he really looks like… Whew! No… No… This one? Too sexy. This? No, too last year. Ooh! Perfect! The slit skirt goes with these shoes, and I’ve got a bag that’s okay with it… No wait. The skirt’s too long. Oh, the hell with it. I’m not gonna
let him in my pants on the first date. Elijah, get out of here!

“If I ever ever ever act carelessly or show disrespect to Ginger again I will get another hard spanking on my bare bottom.”

Just in case, Molly made sure she had taxi money. She wiped away an errant bit of lip gloss.

She flipped through the yellow pad while Samantha stood swishing and gargling at the sink. Everything looked fine. Nothing smart hidden away on the fifth page of “If I ever ever ever…” Reasonably thoughtful answers, given Sam’s heightened anxiety.

The “my next spanking” drawing caught Ginger’s attention. She had expected a simple line-sketch of two well-marked moons, perhaps surrounded by a sunburst indicating pain or brightness.

Instead, her artistically talented sister had drawn a rear-view full-body pose. She was bent slightly forward at the waist, with realistically mussed hair, a wrinkled white blouse, and dark panties tangled at the feet around white ankle socks. A mid-length plaid skirt lay on the floor next to a pair of saddle shoes and a school report card littered with bold F’s. A teary face pouted across the left shoulder. Long manicured fingers, which might have been resting on the knees, instead reached back to hold apart two splotched butt cheeks and reveal a bushy clump of dark pubic hair. The wristwatch read twenty minutes to four, for God’s sake!

Samantha coughed twice and waited for the verdict. When it came, her shoulders slumped.